


New Meets Old

by msred



Series: Starting Over [13]
Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: Basketball, Childhood Memories, F/M, Family Drama, Family Issues, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Smut, Long-Distance Relationship, Meet the Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-08
Updated: 2019-08-08
Packaged: 2020-08-11 18:43:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20158294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msred/pseuds/msred
Summary: It had been his suggestion to take me, and my two oldest friends, to see the last basketball game of the season on our favorite college team's home court. Since he really had no vested interest in the team, aside from what I'd forced onto him over the past year or so, I assumed his true motive was to meet my friends and family, most of whom I'd told him very little about in the year and a half we'd known each other.





	New Meets Old

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had to abandon my whole "no first names" rule for this one. The narrator still never gets named (so please, by all means, throw yourself in there if you wish), but there are too many other male characters in this one and it was getting WAY too confusing to keep trying to stick with "him/he." Besides, this one doesn't just have clues as to who he is, it has big flashing neon signs. Oh, and the tags, of course.
> 
> Also, medium-ish smut ahead.

_13 months together (March, Year 3)_

_***_

“Are they not home?” Chris looked down at me questioningly as I led him into my best friend’s house. I stopped in the entryway to kick off my sandals and he followed my lead, toeing off his sneakers before following me farther into the house.

I shook my head and led him to the guest room just off the front hall. “They went shopping. So,” I opened the guest room door and swept my hand toward the room, “our accommodations, sir.” I grinned up at him as he chuckled at me.

I followed him into the room, and the second his suitcase hit the floor at the foot of the bed, his hands were on my waist and my own were lifting to his stubbled cheeks. He dipped his face to meet mine and we both sighed when our lips met. We’d hugged at the airport, him pushing his face into my hair and inhaling deeply and me burying mine in his chest, but that was as far as we would go in a public place. And the 15-minute drive to Ashley and Johnathan’s was spent with our fingers intertwined on top of the center console as I navigated the neighborhood streets. But that, that moment in that room with his lips pressed to mine and his thumbs gliding up and down over my ribs, was the first time since I’d picked him up that we’d _ really _touched, in that close, tender, intimate way we both loved so much. 

I rose onto my toes, making myself as tall as possible. He still had four inches or so on me, but it had to make things at least a little easier for him. Besides, it was almost an involuntary movement, an unconscious attempt to get as close to him as possible. I slid my left hand down his neck to hook my arm across his shoulders and my right hand worked into his hair. When he maneuvered his bottom lip between both of mine and slid his tongue into my mouth, I closed my hand around the hair at the back of his head and pulled. His hands moved to my hips and dug in, then he jerked me forward until our bodies crashed together. He pushed into the kiss and swept the tip of his tongue across the roof of my mouth before withdrawing it and pulling back less than an inch. 

“Don’t start something you don’t plan to finish,” he nearly growled.

I nudged my nose alongside his then closed my eyes. “Who said I don’t plan to finish it?” I whispered against his lips before pressing mine against them again, briefly. When I opened my eyes, a small smirk on my lips, he was looking at me incredulously. He turned his head side-to-side to scan the room, his eyes lingering on the open door. “We’ve got some time.” He looked down at me skeptically, one eyebrow quirked. “They’re grocery shopping with a six-year-old and a four-year-old. _ We’ve got some time. _”

He didn’t say anything, just leaned back down to slant his lips over mine again and trailed his fingers across the waistband of my jeans, working at the button when he got to the front. Once it was open and the zipper had been pushed down, he let his fingers dance across the newly bare skin and play under the hem of my shirt. I tilted my head down, breaking the kiss and bringing my forehead to his chest. I opened my eyes and looked up to watch his drift slowly open, enjoying the way they were slightly glazed over. I pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth but pulled away before he could turn his head for more, unwinding my arm from his shoulders and trailing the tips of my fingers over the back of his neck as I backed away. 

I walked purposefully to the door, closing it then turning back to face him. I hooked my thumbs into the tops of my jeans and kept my eyes locked on his as I slid them down my legs. When I stood back up, I let the denim hang from my index finger by a belt loop and leaned back, my back arched so that only my shoulder blades and lace-covered ass made contact with the door. I gave him my best smirk (still not quite as good as his) and tossed the jeans past him onto the bed. He followed them with his eyes then looked back at me. One corner of his mouth tugged upward and his hands came to rest on his hips. 

“Your turn.” I slipped my hands behind the small of my back and brought my right leg up to rest my foot flat against the door.

His grin was wicked and his eyes never left mine as he slowly and deliberately unbuttoned and unzipped his own jeans then slid his hands across his lower abdomen, his thumbs hooking up under his shirt so that it lifted enough to show off the smooth, taut skin there and the thin trail of dark hair leading down into his boxer briefs. My eyes darted down to watch his palms slide over his hip bones and his long fingers dip inside his waistband until all that was left outside his jeans and underwear were his thumbs. I snapped my eyes back up to his and kept them there as he pushed down both articles of clothing and stepped out of them, leaving him wearing just less than I was. He winked. I may have started the game, but now he was playing along. I shivered, a small tingle running up my spine. I would think it was so small he didn’t even notice, but I watched his eyes narrow before he closed the space between us in three steps. 

I pushed myself off the door when he was right in front of me and his hands landed immediately on the small of my back. I snaked my own under his shirt and up to his chest. He bent to my level, but instead of bringing his lips to mine, he nudged my head to the side and attached his lips to the underside of my jaw. He started by dropping small kisses first in a line down toward my chin, then back up to just below my ear. When his tongue came out and traced my pulse, my hands contracted and my nails dragged across his skin and through the hair on his chest. He stilled for a second before scraping his teeth across the sensitive skin of my neck. It took me by surprise and I gasped, and at the same moment his hands came down to cup the bottom of my ass. He hoisted me up effortlessly and my legs wrapped involuntarily around his waist, my thighs resting atop his hip bones.

He took a step forward so that my back hit the guest room door, then took yet another half-step so that my body was firmly wedged between the wood and his own solid form. My hands were trapped between us, under the cotton of his t-shirt, but I wouldn’t have pulled them away even if I could have. Instead, I pushed them up, his shirt sliding up his body, until I was gripping his shoulders. He looked back at me, no smile, no smirk, but his eyes soft as they locked with mine. He made no move, so I kissed him, insistent and almost desperate. He didn’t hesitate to kiss me back and he squeezed my ass in both hands before maneuvering his left arm under me until he almost cradled me on his forearm, my weight mostly supported by the way he had me pinned to the door and his arm serving to provide stability. He brought his right hand up and into my hair at the back of my head. I heard his knuckles knock against the door as he pushed his tongue a little roughly into my mouth and pushed my head back with the force of his kiss.

I moaned into his mouth and shifted my hips against him. I’d been on a slow burn since the moment I laid eyes on him at the airport, but I’d been getting wetter by the second since he pulled me in for that first kiss and my panties had become downright uncomfortable. 

“Impatient?” he asked, then bit down gently but firmly on my bottom lip. 

“I said we’ve got _ some _time,” I reminded him, and he drew the lip he’d just assaulted between both of his and traced his tongue over it soothingly. He slipped his hand out from behind my head slowly so that my head didn’t bang against the door and brought it down between our bodies. His fingertips came to the lacy edge of my panties at the crease of my thigh and traced the hem from the top of my thigh down almost all the way to my ass then back up. He slipped his index and middle fingers under the lace and gathered the fabric so that his two long fingers hooked around it and pulled it away from my skin. He let his knuckles skim across my sensitive skin - down, down, until -

“Ohhhhh, my God,” I whined, my legs tightening around his waist and my hands squeezing his shoulders when he nudged the incredibly sensitive nub between my legs with the knuckle of his middle finger, then his forefinger, then the middle one again. He kept the lace nestled in the crooks of those fingers.

“That was quick,” he murmured into my ear with his cheek pressed to mine, then pressed a kiss right in front of my ear.

“I’ve missed you,” I breathed.

And with that, a switch seemed to flip. He kissed my cheek again, quickly, his day-and-a-half shadow of a beard rubbing against my skin like sandpaper, then moved to draw my earlobe into his mouth and between his teeth. I whined again and his low chuckle floated into my ear. He applied _ just enough _ pressure with his teeth at the same time that he yanked the lace of my panties aside. It was _ almost _too rough, the lace biting into my skin, and I pressed my heels into his ass. I dragged a hand down his chest and over his stomach, letting my nails scrape across his skin as I went. I took a brief detour to run my fingers over the back of his hand where he still held my underwear aside, then reached farther down between us to wrap my hand around him. He’d teased me about being so wet and so sensitive so quickly, but he was thick and hard under my fingers, veins throbbing under velvety skin, and he sucked in a breath between his teeth when my thumb brushed over his head.

He released my earlobe from his mouth, his teeth dragging over it as he did, and pulled his head back to look at my face. “Pill?” I just nodded. We’d had the full ‘protection’ conversation after the first time we were together and before the next time we were able to see each other, but he always gave a cursory double-check. We both knew that the only thing we had to worry about was an unexpected pregnancy, so as long as I said I was good with my pills, he didn’t question it. He nearly lunged forward and molded his lips to mine again, teeth nipping at me and tongue sweeping through my mouth. I worked my hand slowly but deliberately up and down his length, twisting my wrist and varying the pressure as I went, and he used the arm under me to shift me until our bodies aligned, carefully letting me drop just until his arm was wrapped around the small of my back and pulling me against him. I dragged his head once, twice through my wetness - it couldn’t hurt to get him as wet as I was before he pushed inside me, but more than anything it just felt really good, and judging by the growl that reverberated through his kisses, he agreed. 

“What happened to ‘_ some _ time’?” he asked, voice strained. He was starting to struggle to control himself. Without saying anything, I lined him up at my entrance and rolled my hips forward. I could only do so much at that angle and with my limited range of motion, but it was enough for him to slip inside, just a little. He only waited long enough for me to move my hand to his hip before he drove forward into me. After that everything seemed to happen at once. I slid a few inches up the wall with the force of his thrust; my head fell back against the door and I sucked in a gasp; his head dropped forward and landed right next to my own against the door; and he stepped, somehow, even closer, wedging me in so tightly that the only thing I could move was the hand on his hip. “Fuck, babe,” he groaned, setting a steady pace with his hips.

I turned my head to watch his face as I moved my hand, my fingertips just skimming over the skin of his lower abdomen, from his hip to the hand that was still holding my underwear. I slipped my hand under his and pulled the lace from his fingers. He lifted his head from the door and locked his eyes with mine as he flattened his hand against me, just below my belly button. His hand moved lower, almost painfully slowly, until -

I moaned, a little high-pitched and breathy, but loud, when his thumb pressed against me, drawing circles that grew smaller and smaller before they expanded back out. He covered my mouth with his own and kissed me harshly, almost like he was trying to distract me from what he was doing with his hand and his hips and his dick, which was pushing into me a little harder and a little faster with every few thrusts. But it wasn’t a distraction, and he knew that. It would be more accurate to say that it was an overload, that he was attacking my senses from every possible angle. When his tongue wasn’t sweeping through my mouth, his teeth were scraping across my lips or his lips were suctioning around my bottom one, tugging on it, and the whole time, his thumb moved at a tempo that complemented the rhythm his hips were setting, even as it changed regularly. I knew he was doing all the work, but there wasn’t exactly anything I could do about it, and he definitely didn’t seem to mind, so I just pushed back into his kisses and dug my nails into his shoulder.

“How ya doin’?” He pulled away from me just long enough to ask, then nudged my chin up with his nose and attached his lips to the front of my throat. He sucked, hard enough for me to feel it, but not hard enough to leave a mark.

“Sooo good.”

“Yeah?”

I nodded. He pressed his thumb harder against me. Moved it faster. Snapped his hips a little more sharply. My breaths became erratic and I tilted my hips forward as much as I could, changing the depth and angle of his thrusts and creating new sensations as he hit new spots and dragged along the nerves inside me.

He lifted his head and watched me, smirking at what I assumed were my pink cheeks, the light sheen of sweat glistening on my skin, the glaze over my eyes. “Close?” I could only nod, my mouth falling open and my eyes squeezing shut. I felt myself tightening from the inside out. Tension built low in my stomach, coiling right behind where his palm pressed against me. He seemed to grow even bigger, but I knew it was actually me, walls closing around him. My breaths became uneven and stuttering and my chest heaved. I pulled his chest tighter against mine with the hand gripping his shoulder and he kissed me so hard our teeth clashed. 

“Any time baby, let’s go.” I realized his hips and his hand were both losing their rhythm and that he was close too. His thumb slipped through my wetness, shifting almost imperceptibly, and I gasped and twitched. He refused to pull away from the kiss, waiting me out until I kissed back again. He kissed me hard, muting the moans he was pulling from me, and pressed even harder, almost - but not quite - too hard with his thumb. I couldn’t keep up kissing him. I couldn’t think. My brain and my body were on fire. 

“There,” I gasped, “just like that.” 

“Come on, baby,” his voice was low, gravelly, a little strangled. He pressed his forehead to mine and my eyes followed his down between us. We both watched as his hand moved against me, nearly vibrating - or maybe just shaking - and the muscles in my thighs tightened to the point of pain.

“Yes,” I breathed, my voice barely audible. “N-now.” I fell apart around him. My arm relaxed against his chest, fingers loosening until they lay limp on his shoulder. My legs loosened, still wrapped around his waist but no longer clamped around him like a vice. And inside, inside the coil sprung and I felt myself fluttering and pulsing around him. He felt it too, because once it slowed, he moved his hand to my hip. It was his turn to tense and tighten, his thumb digging into my skin just above my hipbone and all four fingers pressing lace into the flesh of my ass. He pushed into me twice more, “Fuckin’. _ Shit _,” fast and hard enough to jostle me up the surface of the door, the wood scraping at my shoulder blades through the thin cotton of my t-shirt but his arm around my waist keeping me from going too far. Then he stilled, except for a couple small, involuntary jerks of his hips and his heavy, ragged breaths washed over me.

I watched his face, eyes screwed shut and mouth open in an oval, some mixture of pleasure and relief, and saw the veins straining in his neck. When he relaxed, mouth closing, hand and arm loosening their grip on me, eyes fluttering open, he leaned in and pressed his lips gently, sweetly against mine. He continued with small, soft kisses as I let go of my underwear and pulled my hand from between us to cradle the back of his head and he slowly shifted his hips backward until he slipped out of me. He made no move to let go of me until I’d unwound my legs from his waist and lowered them, then he set me carefully on the floor, readjusted my panties for me, and wrapped both arms around my back. He sighed against my lips, low and deep and content, before he pulled away to smile sweetly down at me.

“I told you we had time,” I smiled up at him and he just smirked and shook his head at me. I traced my left hand, still resting on his shoulder under his shirt, along the chain around his neck and down his chest and stomach then out of his shirt to rest on his bicep. 

He kissed my forehead. “Always right.” I laughed a little and squeezed his arm.

“I’m gonna step into the bathroom,” I told him as I walked us a couple steps away from the door then stepped around him toward where my jeans lay on the bed. “Do you need -” I gestured toward the door to the adjoining bathroom. 

He rubbed the back of his head and looked down at himself then over to where his pants and underwear lay on the floor. “I could actually really use a shower.”

Of course. I’d forgotten that on top of the sweat - and other things - we’d just worked up, he’d spent most of the day in and out of planes and airports - L.A. to Kentucky was no short trip. “Sure,” I smiled, “all my stuff’s already in the shower, and there’s a towel on top of the vanity.” I folded my jeans over my arm and traded them out for the sweats that I had draped over the back of the armchair in the corner after I’d taken my own shower that morning. “I’ll just go to the hall bathroom.”

I pulled on my sweats and he rolled his eyes and shook his head at me; he thought it was hilarious that after five months of sleeping together, over a year of dating, and a few months before that of dancing around one another, I still refused to so much as pee with the door open. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure why I was that way. I hadn’t been, with my husband. And I wasn’t especially modest with him in any other ways. But for some reason, there was some part of me that didn’t want to cross that line with him, not yet anyway. I didn’t need him to romanticize me - in fact, I wanted him to see the real me, warts and all, from the jump so that I didn’t get my heart broken later on because he realized I wasn’t someone he’d created in his head - but that didn’t mean I needed to let him into the bathroom with me.

After peeing and cleaning myself up a bit, including a splash of cold water to my face to cool my overheated skin, I came back to change into clean underwear and back into my jeans. Ashley, and Johnathan, would probably assume that our reunion had consisted of more than a hug and a handshake (I knew my friend, and I knew the _ real _reason she’d dragged her entire family to the grocery store sometime after I’d left to pick him up but before we got back was so that we’d have the house to ourselves for at least a little while before the chaos that would inevitably ensue when it came time to introduce the boyfriend to the best friend and her entire family), but I didn’t need to broadcast it by being in different clothes. I could still hear water running in the shower, so I picked up my phone and went to the kitchen. I texted Ashley to see how her shopping trip was going and the string of emojis that I got in response told me that it was exactly as to be expected, for a trip with two pre-school-aged boys. Her next text followed almost immediately after and told me that, thanks to some unexpected detours and stops, we’d have the house to ourselves longer than I’d expected. I sat my phone on the island and poured a water from the dispenser in the fridge to take to Chris.

When I got back to the guest room, he was sitting at the end of the bed, a towel wrapped around his waist and beads of water glistening on his hair. “How d’ya feel?” I closed the door behind me and walked to sit beside him, but before I could, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me onto his thighs. I squeaked and held the cup away from me, trying to keep the water from sloshing out. I draped the other arm across his shoulders.

“Mmm,” he hummed, balancing his chin on my shoulder, “fresher. Tired. How about you?”

He had one arm wrapped around my waist, thumb sliding across my hip over the waistband of my jeans, and the other hand cupped over my knee. I brought my hand in to rest the cup on the back of his hand and grinned mischievously over at him. “I think my legs are still shaking.”

“Well,” he leaned in for a kiss and lingered there, his lips moving across mine, “when you love what you do, you try to take pride in your work.” He kissed me again then dropped his chin back to my shoulder. “But that’s not - I mean - that was, different. Kinda ... rough.” His eyes were soft as they moved over my face and I traced my fingers over the muscles of his shoulder.

It hadn’t been rough, really. Not by most standards of “rough sex.” But it _ was _different for us, more abrupt, maybe, than usual. It had been about five months since the first time we’d slept together, but it hadn’t happened all that many times in the interim, simply because we didn’t get to see each other nearly as often as either of us would like. So, every time so far had been mostly tender, sweet, gentle. That first time had been Labor Day, and he’d been in town for a week and a half that time. After that, though, it was Thanksgiving before we were able to see each other again, then Christmas, and then for a few days in late January, which meant it had been just over a month since the last time we got to look each other in the eye without the aid of a screen, since we last got to feel the warmth of the other’s skin, since we shared a kiss. I’d wanted him, badly, the moment I saw him in baggage claim, and I didn’t need to be spread out gently on a mattress, each piece of clothing pulled sweetly from my body one-by-one when it happened. I never fooled myself into thinking he was ‘vanilla’ or that it was always going to be sweet and fairy tale romantic, and he’d never gone so far as to treat me like I was breakable or anything like that. But everything he did, everything he had done since the moment we met, was done with such complete and utter respect, and I think a part of him was worried about pushing me farther and harder and faster than I wanted, or was ready, to go. So, I simply took an opportunity that afternoon to show him that he didn’t always have to be so tender, that it was okay to change the pace a little bit. 

I nudged the hand on my knee with the cup I was holding until he took it from me then brought my hand up to cup his cheek. “You are pretty much the kindest person I’ve ever known,” he rolled his eyes and shook his head a little and I leaned in and pressed my lips to his, aiming to kiss away his doubt. “You are,” I whispered against his mouth. “And you know I love your mile-wide romantic streak.” The tops of his cheeks flushed, just the smallest bit, and he dropped his eyes from mine. “But,” I drawled, waiting until he looked back up at me, “you trying to _ fuck me through the wall _ in someone else’s house?” His hand clenched on my hip for a second. “That. Was fun. And fucking hot.”

He kissed me then, almost enough to start something again. 

“You pulled my hair.” It was almost an accusation, almost a question, but not quite either.

“Yep, and I think you liked it.”

He chuckled and kissed me again, on the cheek this time, probably afraid of starting something up that we may not have time to finish this time around. “Maybe. And it was a door, not a wall,” he murmured lowly, right into my ear. And maybe what he was really trying to do was tease the hell out of me, because he _ knew _what his voice could do to me. I considered saying to hell with it, opening the towel around his waist, and turning on his lap to straddle him right there, knowing what I did about the grocery shopping hold-up, but I decided against it because I didn’t want him completely worn out when he met my lifelong best friend for the first time. I was thinking about getting off his lap altogether just to eliminate the temptation when he dropped his cheek to my shoulder and nuzzled his face into my neck. 

“I missed you,” he nearly whispered, and his breath fanning across my skin gave me goosebumps. He wrapped both arms around my waist, still holding the water cup awkwardly, and hugged me to him.

“Missed you more,” I whispered back, sliding my hand over to his ear to rub it between my thumb and forefinger. I jumped and yelped when he squeezed my side to tickle me.

“Bullshit.”

I kissed his forehead then stood off his lap, tugging at his arms when he wouldn’t let go of me. He whined, but finally let me loose. I took the cup from his hand and ran my free hand through his hair, giggling as I flicked the water droplets collected on my fingers into his face. He glared at me for a second then shook his head hard, like a dog, sending water flying everywhere, including all over the front of my shirt. He just smirked when I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Hey, before you soak that bedspread we have to sleep under tonight,” he ran his hand over the bed, “why don’t you put some clothes on and we’ll go out to the living room. I’ll find something on tv and maybe you can close your eyes for a few minutes until they get home.” He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again and nodded. I knew he needed the rest, but I also knew he wouldn’t want to stay in the bedroom and nap because he wouldn’t want to be there when Ashley and Johnathan and the boys got back. 

“Hey,” he stopped me when I was almost at the door, “is that for me?” He nodded at the water cup.

“Oh geez,” I rolled my eyes at myself, “yeah, it was.” I walked it back to him where he now stood at the foot of the bed and pushed onto my toes for a quick kiss before going out to the living room.

When he came out to join me on the couch, fully dressed in the same jeans he’d been wearing before and a blue and white flannel with the sleeves rolled up almost to his elbows, I had the tv tuned to the South Carolina-Tennessee game. 

“Uh-oh,” he said from behind the couch, just above me. The score didn’t look great for Carolina, my alma mater, with about three minutes left in the game. I was a true blue Kentucky fan when it came to basketball - it was, after all, why we were in Lexington in early March - and Carolina was generally more of a football school, but it was always nice to see them win, even if I didn’t hold my breath over it.

“There’s still time.” I replied, half-heartedly, as he walked around to the front of the couch, chuckling.

He looked around the room, taking in the toys tucked into bins on the shelves of the built-in bookcase in one corner and the small tent in the other, the plastic Fisher Price slide right in front of the fireplace under the television and the sheet spread over the couch cushions, and apparently realized right away that he was not in a stuffy or formal home. He dropped onto the couch a little roughly and stretched out on his side, his head on my lap and his feet hanging off the opposite end. 

“Comfy?” He nodded and reached across my legs with his top arm, tucking the hand on the side he was laying on under my thigh. “You want a pillow?”

“Hmm-mm,” he shook his head. “You feel good.”

“Okay Sleepy, why don’t you try to take a power nap? I’ll wake you when they get home.” He nodded and it turned into nuzzling his cheek against my leg until he found the most comfortable spot. I reached for the remote to turn down the volume of the game and combed the fingers of my free hand through his hair. I kept it up until his breath evened out and I looked down to see that peaceful look that meant he was asleep, all of two minutes later. 

***

“Oh my gosh, that took forever, I’m so sorry!” Ashley burst through the door in the hall that led to the garage, her arms loaded down with grocery bags. “Oh!” she gasped when she saw us on the couch, me with my head tilted back to watch her make her way to the open kitchen and him still asleep on my lap. She lowered her voice. “My bad. Let me drop these on the counter and I’ll go corral the boys before they run in screaming.”

“It’s okay, he’s been asleep for about -”

“Oh hush. I know he’s had a long day, he needs it. Besides, right now, I’ll take any excuse I can get to keep them quiet.” I laughed at that and nodded.

A couple minutes later she was coming back in, more grocery bags and two very large pizza boxes in hand, and Johnathan trailing behind her with their youngest perched on his hip and the oldest scrambling around his legs to get to us on the couch.

“Hi!” Jacob whispered excitedly, one hand resting on the arm of the couch next to my elbow and the other waving frantically. “Is he sleeping?”

“Yeah,” I whispered back, “he wanted to make sure he was _ really _rested so he could hang out with everybody after dinner.”

The boy’s eyes widened, “Mom got _ pizza. _ With _ pepperoni _.”

“Pepperoni?” I leaned down until we were nose-to-nose. “That sounds _ awesome _.” 

Jacob nodded and walked slowly around to the front of the couch to investigate his visitor. He squatted to look him right in the face, then his eyes snapped up to his brother, still being held by their dad over my shoulder at the end of the couch. The younger boy wore a bright blue _ Avengers _t-shirt, Thor, Ironman, and Captain America featured prominently in the center of it. Jacob looked down again then grabbed my knees with both of his small hands, leaning up onto his tippy toes. He looked at me, wide-eyed, for a second, then lifted one hand and crooked a finger, beckoning me down to him. “That’s Captain America!” He was still trying to whisper, but his little voice was rising, and I bit both of my lips to keep from laughing.

“Is it?” I feigned surprise, once I was able to speak without giggling. Jacob nodded frantically. “I dunno, buddy. Doesn’t Captain America usually have a shield?” He gasped and bounced on his little toes.

“I’ll be right back!” He turned and bounded up the stairs, stopping on the landing halfway up to look back down at us through the railing. “Don’t. Move.” 

“We’re not going anywhere,” I promised. I felt Chris start to shift on the couch, his head turning into my thigh. I brought my hand to his back and flattened it between his shoulder blades, hoping to signal him to stay ‘asleep’ a little bit longer. His hand squeezed my leg from where he had tucked it under my thigh, but otherwise he didn’t move. 

Johnathan’s hand fell heavy on the top of my head and he ruffled my hair. I turned and looked over my shoulder to watch him head into the kitchen, where he sat Jonah on the counter and picked through the grocery bags. Ashley flitted between the fridge and the pantry, unloading one bag after another, while Johnathan brought a bag over to set it beside Jonah, handing the boy a sponge, then dish soap, then a bag of coffee, watching him put each in its proper place on the counter before handing him the next. I smiled at the sweet domesticity of the whole situation. Their little family was precious; not perfect - none are - but warm and loving, and every time I went back to Kentucky to visit they brought me into the fold when I could no longer handle being around my own biological family.

I heard feet thumping on the stairs - I always marvelled at how much noise small bodies could make - and turned back to watch Jacob scurrying down. He carried a red, white, and blue plastic shield that covered him from his shoulders all the way to his knees. “Look!” He seemed to have forgotten that he was supposed to be quiet. “Dad got it for me when we went to Disney World! Mom says it’s still too big for me, but it’s not too big for him!” No, it certainly wasn’t. In fact, as large as the toy looked in front of Jacob’s body, small even for a six-year-old, it wouldn’t have come close to covering the span of Cap’s wide chest and shoulders the way the ‘real’ shield did.

Jacob dropped to his knees on the carpet and flipped the shield over face-down on the floor. He ripped open the velcro straps on the back of it and I heard Jonah call from the kitchen, “What’s brother doing? I want to play too!”

“Hey,” Johnathan said to him softly but sternly, “I’ll let you down, but only if you promise to be quiet and play nice, got it?”

“Got it! Got it!” 

I felt Chris’s head move on my leg again and I heard the little chuckle he was trying to muffle. I rubbed my fingers over his back in a small circle, a silent thank-you for playing along.

Jonah came running to kneel at his brother’s side, and Ashley and Johnathan followed him in to sit on the love seat along the side wall. 

“Jonah, look,” Jacob was back to whispering, “it’s Captain America!” I’m not entirely sure the four-year-old made the connection, but he looked over at us and gasped anyway, swept up in his big brother’s excitement. “Come on, let’s go give him his shield.” Jacob went to lift the shield and Jonah ‘helped,’ wrapping his hands around the other side, and they lifted it to hover over the forearm draped across my legs. Jacob looked at the velcro straps, then at the arm, then back at the straps, consternation all over his little face. He looked up at me, “I don’t think they’re going to fit.” 

I took a deep breath before answering, swallowing down my amusement. The toy’s straps wouldn’t begin to close around that arm even if we’d tried. “Doesn’t look like it, does it?” He shook his head and Jonah looked back and forth between his brother and the ‘sleeping’ man on his couch. “What are you gonna do?”

“Umm,” Jacob hemmed for a few seconds looking at the situation from all the angles he could. “I think I’ll just lay it here. He’ll know what to do with it.” He motioned to Jonah to come with him as he stepped closer to the couch. He wouldn’t be able to secure the shield’s straps around his hero’s arm, but that wouldn’t stop him from setting it in place. He laid the toy down carefully then stepped back slowly, grabbing Jonah’s hand to pull him along. I grinned over at Ashley and Johnathan to my right and saw that she had her phone out, snapping one picture after another. I didn’t blame her. It was adorable from where I was sitting, probably even more so from her angle. And it’s not every day that your six-year-old gets to meet his hero. That deserves to be documented. Besides, I knew she wouldn’t share the pictures with anyone outside her family. And me - if she hadn’t texted them to me by the time we sat down to eat dinner, I’d be demanding them.

Chris started to move, sliding his hand from under my leg and lifting his head just off my lap. I slid my hand subtly under the shield to hold onto the straps as he moved to make sure it didn’t fall to the floor. He yawned, big and exaggerated, and blinked a couple times. “What’s going on? How long have I been asleep? Oh no, not years, I hope.” Jacob and Jonah both shook their heads eagerly. He gasped, “You found my shield!” He’d pulled his arm out enough that he could close his fingers around the edge of the toy closest to him and he dragged it off my lap and onto his own. Jacob giggled. “I’ve been looking _ everywhere _for this! Thank you so much!”

Jacob blushed and a grin took over his face. “You’re welcome,” he mumbled. 

“Seriously, you’re awesome,” He held out a hand, palm up to the boys, and waited for Jacob to step forward and give him a high five. “Ooh,” he shook his hand, “you’ve got quite an arm.” Jacob beamed and Jonah stepped in for his own high five. Neither boy seemed to mind when the routine was repeated exactly.

“You wanna see what else I’ve got?” Jacob asked, darting to the bookshelf with the toy bins.

“Umm,” Chris scoffed and answered, his voice full of interest, “yeah! Of course!”

Jonah followed his brother’s lead and both boys started pulling bins from the shelf.

“And on that note,” Ashley stood, “I’m gonna get dinner together. We got a couple pizzas, who wants salad?” Johnathan raised his hand, and Chris nodded when I looked at him, eyebrows raised in question.

We both jumped when one of the boys dumped a toy bin onto the floor with a crash and the toys scattered. He grimaced and looked over at Johnathan and Ashley. “Sorry,” he mouthed, but Ashley only waved him off.

“Hey man, welcome to our life,” Johnathan shrugged.

“I’m gonna go help Ashley,” I said as Jacob headed back toward us, a Spiderman figure in one hand and a Transformer in the other. “Think you can handle yourself over here? Stay out of trouble?” I hadn’t officially introduced him to either of our adult hosts yet, but I figured I’d do that when we sat down to eat. Besides, him humoring their kids was probably the best possible introduction they could get. I knew how he was with kids; there was no way they could not love him after five minutes of that. (Though, I was 99% sure they would have loved him either way.)

He sighed, chest and shoulders heaving more than necessary. “I guess I can try.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me then leaned over and kissed my cheek before I stood.

Jacob gasped and his eyes darted between us. “I didn’t know Captain America had a girlfriend!” All the adults in the room laughed, and I patted Chris’s knee with my hand. 

“Have fun with that,” I told him with a grin, then pushed off his leg to go help Ashley. I reached around her at the counter for another knife from the block to help her chop vegetables for salad and said quietly, “I guess he hasn’t seen _ Endgame _.” She laughed.

“He’s six. Seeing and understanding are two different things.” I hummed in understanding. I was 36 and not sure I understood. “Besides, we only let him watch certain parts of the movies. He’s still too young for them, really, but he loves superheroes.” I just nodded as we both tossed vegetables into the salad bowl and I turned my eyes back to the boys - small and large - in the living room.

“That’s because she’s the first one who will put up with me,” I heard Chris tell his new young friend before he looked at me over his shoulder and winked. Johnathan laughed, Ashley bumped her hip against mine, and I just smiled and rolled my eyes, my cheeks burning. 

Jacob dropped his arms to his sides, still clutching his toys, and came to stand toe-to-toe with his hero. “Did you know,” he thought he was being quiet, but we could still hear him across the room, “she’s my aunt?”

“I _ did _know that.”

“She’s a really good aunt.”

“Yeah?” Jacob nodded. “She’s a really good girlfriend, too. The best.” My heart jumped and I dropped my head to try to hide my blush.

***

Normally it took me a little while to fall asleep, but it had been a long, busy, emotionally charged day and I had passed out nearly the minute my head hit the pillow, before Chris even made it in to tell me goodnight. It was only his second day back in the east, and his body was still on California time. He’d offered to come with me when I retreated to the guest room almost as soon as we got home from the game, but I knew he’d probably only lay there staring at the ceiling or scrolling through his phone for at least an hour or so, and there was no point in that. Besides, Ashley and Johnathan weren’t going to bed yet either, and I didn’t hate the idea of him spending some time with them. 

I was groggy and a little disoriented when Johnathan’s, “Duuuude!” his term of endearment for everyone from casual friends to his own wife, woke me. I reached across the bed as pieces fell into place in my brain and by the time I realized it was empty I had pretty much come to. I wasn’t all that surprised, once I had my glasses on and my eyes focused on the glow of the alarm clock on the nightstand, to find myself alone; I’d been in bed for less than an hour. I considered sinking my head back into the pillow and trying to go back to sleep, but while I wasn’t upset that he hadn’t yet joined me in bed, I still missed him. I pushed off the covers and rolled out of bed, grabbing the UK hoodie I’d bought him especially for the occasion from the top of his suitcase and pulling it over my head - I held it to my face for an extra second in the process, I didn’t get to breathe in his scent nearly often enough - as I opened the door and shuffled into the hall.

“Having fun without me, I see,” I teased as I entered the kitchen, where the three of them sat around the table, beers in front of each of them. Chris happened to be sitting with his back to the hall, so he didn’t see me coming, but Ashley’s eyes widened and she reached across the table and tapped her fingers right in front of him when she saw me. I stopped behind him and rested my hands on his shoulders, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. 

“Hey you,” he cleared his throat and his hands came up to cover my own, “how - how long you been up?”

I scoffed. “Like two minutes. Ever since _ that _guy,” I narrowed my eyes at Johnathan, who grinned and didn’t even pretend to feel bad, “decided to start yelling.” His shoulders relaxed and he squeezed my hands once then brought his own back to the table to spin his half-full beer bottle. I kept one hand on his shoulder and crossed around his opposite side so that my arm looped over his shoulders when I dropped onto his lap. He slid his arm around my waist, holding me close, but kept his eyes on the beer as I settled myself onto him. He was being cagey.

I could guess why. Our time with my family before the game had been interesting, to say the least. I suspected he’d been telling my friends about it, and he probably didn’t have a lot of nice things to say. If he thought I’d heard him, I could understand why he’d be nervous. I wasn’t upset, though. For one thing, Ashley had been my best friend for literally the majority of my life, since I was seven and she was six. There was nothing he could tell her that she didn’t already know, either because I’d already told her or because she’d lived through it with me. For another thing, though, I knew him and I trusted him not to say anything unnecessarily rude or disrespectful. Or untrue. Anything he’d said was, I was sure, very true and very much deserved. 

Like I said, it had been a long day. We were up early, probably too early for him, since his jet lag and his pre-dinner nap meant he’d had a hard time going to sleep the night before, to have breakfast before driving the hour and a half south to my childhood hometown. At his request, I took him to all the places that had been important to me when I was growing up - the first home I really remembered, my elementary school, which was long closed and had been turned into a community center, my childhood church, then, moving forward through my memories, my high school, the shopping center where I’d had my first part-time job, the teenage hang-outs where I’d spent time with my friends. After every stop or drive-by, I offered to call it a day, but he insisted he wanted the “full tour.” There wasn’t much to see really; it was a small town full of typical small-town landmarks and I hadn’t lived there myself in almost 20 years. But he said he enjoyed it, that he wanted to see all the pieces that went into shaping me into _ Me _ (even though I insisted that college is where I really figured out who I was, he said that everything before that still led me to where I was going).

After that, we’d started north again to go to my grandparents’ house, where I would introduce him to my family, before heading back to Lexington for the game. That’s where things went a little off the rails. My grandparents were lovely, kind and gracious as always, from the start. They gushed over him, not because they had any clue who he was (I don’t think either of them has ever seen a single one of his movies), but because he was kind and funny and sincere and they saw the way I smiled and my eyes lit up when I looked at him or when he reached across the couch cushions for my hand as I talked. But about 30 minutes after we got there, my brother and his wife showed up with the four kids they shared between them (his 12-year-old daughter and seven-year-old son, and her 14-year-old son and nine-year-old daughter) and almost immediately the shit started to hit the fan. Both boys knew exactly who he was and were totally enamored with him, but every time they tried to have a conversation with him, one of their parents would call them away abruptly. The younger of the two girls, my sister-in-law’s daughter, didn’t take her eyes off him, but was too shy to actually talk to him, watching him from behind her mother. 

My niece, on the other hand, with whom I’d always been extremely close even despite the geographical distance between us, attached herself to my side and watched him more skeptically than the others had. She had, apparently, decided that she was the one he needed to win over in order to be worthy of my heart. He clearly saw this too, and made it his mission to gain her approval. It would have been ridiculous, him pandering to a pre-teen, if it weren’t so sweet. All of his earnest attempts at impressing her were met with disinterest until finally, when we’d mostly all moved to the back patio because my grandparents’ small house couldn’t contain both the energy of the kids and the tension of the adults, he looked at her, still more or less glued to me, in the sunlight and said, “Wow. Has anyone ever told you how much you look like your aunt? Your nose is a lot like hers and you have the _ exact _same eyes.” She grinned, blushed, and melted on the spot. From that moment forward, she was his biggest fan.

If only the adults had been so easy to manage. On top of preventing their other kids from even interacting with him, my brother and sister-in-law generally behaved like assholes the entire time we were with them. My brother had a rude comeback for everything either of us said, even when it was just a general, harmless question, and his wife said next to nothing to anyone, reserving her voice for snappy remarks to the kids when any of them aside from my niece tried to interact with us. (At one point her son made the mistake of referring to Chris as ‘Captain America,’ and while he just smiled modestly and I prepared to explain that he was more than welcome to call him ‘Chris,’ my brother and sister-in-law both yelled at him, asserting that he was absolutely not a hero in real life and going so far as to berate the young man for being “too stupid” to understand the difference between movies and the real world. Neither boy attempted to speak to him again after that.) The couple hadn’t even joined the rest of us in the backyard, electing to stay inside on their own with the younger girl, which wasn’t such a terrible thing. What _ was _a terrible thing, though, happened when I excused myself inside to use the restroom. Though I couldn’t make out the actual words, I could hear my brother’s and sister-in-law’s voices from the living room. I rolled my eyes at the agitation I could hear as I washed my hands. They could have been talking about anything; they were the type of people who always needed to be angry about something. 

I’d just opened the bathroom door to leave when I heard the screen door that led from the kitchen to the backyard clang shut, and I knew the cadence of Chris’s footsteps as he crossed the kitchen. I was going out to meet him, but my brother’s voice stopped me in my tracks. I rolled my eyes at his rudeness.

“You need somethin’?”

“Hey. Not really,” Chris was trying to be pleasant, but I heard the strain - annoyance and confusion - in his voice, “I was just looking for your sister. Your grandmother wanted to know if we wanted anything to eat here but I’m not exactly sure what our plans are for dinner. I just know the game starts at seven, so I was going to check with her about what we’re doing before then.”

“Haven’t seen her,” was all my brother said.

“Right. Thanks.” He paused. “Hey man, I’m not sure if you have something against me, or if you’re suspicious of my relationship with your sister, or what, but I’m not a terrible guy, and it would be cool if we could get along. For her sake.” I rolled my eyes. He was giving my brother far too much credit if he thought that man did _ anything _for my sake, or for anyone’s other than his own, really.

“I don’t have a problem with you.”

“Okay. Well, it just kind of seemed like you did, but that’s cool.”

I didn’t actually want to eavesdrop, and I was about to go get Chris and take him back outside, but my brother went on and it was like I was a teenager again and I just had to hear what he was going to say. 

“But I’m sick of her coming back here and parading around like she’s better than me.”

“I don’t think -”

“She looked down on me when we were kids because she was older. Then she went off to college and she got all high and mighty, like she was smarter than all the rest of us. And she thought being married to someone in the military made her special or something. Like they were _ important _ because they went off and did other things and had more money. None of that shit makes her better than me, just because I _ chose _ to stay here, and screwing some movie star _ definitely _doesn’t make her better than me.”

I was reeling. We’d never been close, and we’d drifted even more over the past several years as our political views pulled further in opposite directions and I expressed my displeasure over the way he often behaved and the way he tended to treat and speak down to his children, but I didn’t know that he had been harboring that much resentment toward me. I certainly didn’t expect to hear him say it out loud.

“Look,” Chris’s voice startled me. It was low and sounded almost dangerous, not like I’d ever heard it outside of a movie. “I don’t really know you, but I know you’re full of shit. Think what you want, but your sister doesn’t think she’s better than you. She disagrees with you about a lot of things, but she doesn’t think she’s better than anyone, including you.” My brother scoffed. “Don’t get me wrong, she _ is _better than you, not because of money or education or her first husband or me, but because she’s a really good person who cares more about other people than herself. But she doesn’t think that.” I closed my eyes and let my head drop, a thousand conflicting emotions coursing through me. It was quiet for a handful of seconds then I heard the front door open and close.

My mom had refused to come that day at all. She thought it was “inappropriate” for me to be dating anyone “so soon” after my husband’s death (he’d been dead just over two years, Chris and I had met six months after he passed, and we’d started dating six months after that), and she wouldn’t acknowledge the relationship. I wished my brother had followed her lead. I didn’t say anything to him or his wife when I slipped out of the bathroom and back through the kitchen out onto the patio, where I put on a happy face and joined my niece at the picnic table. I had over 30 years of practice dealing with my brother, one more day wasn’t going to kill me.

Several minutes later Chris walked around the house from the front yard and, with a smile that was warm and beautiful but that I could tell was forced, apologized to my grandparents for the short visit and told them we really had to get going because of the plans we had with Ashley and Johnathan before we all headed to the game. We actually hadn’t made any plans because we didn’t know how long of a visit to expect, so I knew he just really wanted to get out of there. For about the first 20 minutes of the drive back to Lexington I agonized over whether to say something to him about what I’d heard, but when he hadn’t mentioned it in that time, I figured he probably didn’t want me to know about their conversation. I would guess he thought he was protecting me from the hurt he thought my brother’s words would cause me. So, I didn’t bring it up either. I would, most likely at some point over the next few days once we were back at my house in Virginia and had had time to recover, physically and mentally, from the weekend. And I’d tell him not only what all I’d heard but how much I appreciated what he’d said. But for the time being I’d decided to sweep it under the rug and try to enjoy something I’d wanted to see in person my entire life - a senior night game at Rupp Arena - with two of the most important people in my life (and Johnathan, who wasn’t so bad either).

I pulled myself out of my not-so-pleasant memories of the afternoon and reached for the beer he was still spinning with the hand that wasn’t tucked into the pocket of the hoodie I wore. “Hey you,” he protested, and I turned to lock my eyes with his then stuck my tongue out at him and grinned as I brought his beer to my lips. 

Ashley laughed and Johnathan dangled his own bottle from his fingers. “You want one? We’ve got a few more of these in the fridge and … Ashley, what’s in the kegerator right now?”

“IPA.”

“And an IPA on tap.”

I shook my head. “I really shouldn’t. I need to go back to bed.” I turned to look at Chris and made a face in apology, “We’ve got a 10-hour drive tomorrow.”

“Aww, come on,” Johnathan complained.

At the same time, Chris said, “I’ll help drive, you know. And we don’t _ have _ to leave early. It’s not like we’re on a deadline. I mean, go to bed if you want, but I don’t think you should feel like you _ have _to.”

I looked across the table at Ashley. I was hoping for back-up, but she only lifted her eyebrows and rolled her eyes down to look into her own beer on the table. I wasn’t going to get any help from her.

“Come on, buddy,” Johnathan nearly whined, shooting me puppy eyes that would have rivaled either of his boys’. “We only get to see you like, what, once a year? And this time we don’t even have any little monsters running around. Yay, Grandma,” he widened his eyes, lifted his brows, and put on a wide, toothy, stretched grin that was clearly meant to look ridiculous. “Don’t you want to hang out with us?” He downright pouted.

I closed my eyes and sighed, dropping my temple to Chris’s head. “You, sir, are playing dirty,” I told my friend-in-law after a few seconds.

“Is it working?”

I bit my bottom lip and turned to look at Chris. “I could text Victoria and see if she minds keeping Millie until later in the evening.”

“Didn’t she tell you she’d just keep her until Monday anyway?”

“Well, yeah, but that was only because she thought we would need to,” I looked to his left at Johnathan, then across the table at Ashley, then squeezed my eyes closed and scrunched up my nose, “_ rest, _when we get home, without a dog going crazy and trying to climb up into the bed.”

“Hey,” he lifted the hand on the table and faked earnestness with his face, “I can always _ rest _.”

Ashley snickered then covered her face with her hand and Johnathan outright laughed. My face burned. Chris, on the other hand, looked completely unfazed. Proud of himself, even. 

“I’m not staying up all night,” I tried to be stern, to play the adult in the room. “One or two drinks, that’s it.” Ashley just grinned and shook her head at me from across the table. She knew I’d end up giving in. He pulled a small fist pump at his side then high-fived Johnathan when he stood to go get a drink for each of us. “You’re a brat,” I told him when he leaned forward to smack a slightly sloppy kiss onto my cheek.

He chuckled. “You love it.”

I hummed. “Maybe.” He tickled me through his sweatshirt.

A little while later, after the guys had both finished their beers and Ashley and I were each about halfway through ours and we’d all laughed ourselves into stomach aches - mostly at Johnathan in general, some at childhood and high school stories shared between Ashley and me (she’d been there the first time I ever got drunk, for example), and some at stories Chris shared, both of his family and friends and from various sets - Johnathan invited him to the backyard to share a cigar he’d been saving for a special occasion. And by saving it for a special occasion, I mean Ashley really didn’t want him smoking it but, much like a kid who drags their friend along to ask their mom for a sleepover because she’s not likely to say no, if he pulled it out and offered to share it with a “very special guest,” there’s not much she could say. 

She and I had talked for a few minutes about the game and how much it had meant to both of us, small-town Kentucky girls throughout our entire childhoods and adolescent years, to finally get to do that together, until Ashley got up to throw away Chris’s and Johnathan’s empty bottles and put our pint glasses in the dishwasher. When she came back to the table, she sat in her husband’s chair and dragged it closer until we were hip-to-hip. She laid her head on my shoulder and sighed. “He actually. Is. Perfect.” 

That had been the topic of our last face-to-face conversation before my husband died and my whole world became about nothing but that for so long. We’d seen each other twice since then, the first being when I came back to do the memorial service, but both times we had talked about nothing other than how I was surviving in my new role as widow or, when I needed to escape from that, her family. But that last time that I’d been able to be with her and just be her best friend and not her sad, struggling, widowed best friend, a little over two years earlier, we’d fallen back into all our old habits and had been giggling fangirls while her boys were napping. I hadn’t met Chris yet - I wouldn’t for another eight months - but that didn’t stop us from discussing our theories regarding all the qualities we believed made him perfect, from his talent to his humor to his obvious kindness to his political awareness to, yes, his eyes and his arms and his beard.

I dropped my head to the side to rest my cheek on her hair and sighed. “Right?”

“I’m glad,” she told me and looped her arm through mine. “You deserve to have some perfect in your life.”

I scoffed. “I don’t think _ anyone _ deserves _ him _.” She pulled away and I turned to look at her, her lips pursed and eyes cast sideways at me. 

“The way he talked while you were sleeping, he thinks the same about you.”

My cheeks burned. “Shh,” I bumped my shoulder against hers. “Don’t say it out loud, the universe might hear you and figure out I’m cheating it.”

“Stop.”

I think she was going to say more, but the French doors that led to the patio opened and the guys came back inside.

“Ahhhhh,” Johnathan started, Chris laughing and shaking his head behind him, “you ladies don’t know what you missed out on.”

“I think we’re good,” Ashley deadpanned back.

Johnathan came to drop into the now-empty chair across from me and Chris circled around to stand behind me. He combed both hands through my hair then cupped my cheeks and tilted my head back. He leaned down for a kiss, but I smelled the cigar on his breath and pressed my lips together, apologizing as much as I could with my eyes. He just scrunched his nose and detoured to press his lips softly to my forehead instead.

“You look tired,” he told me, tracing his fingers up and down the sides of my neck. It didn’t occur to me to be offended, probably because I could see the affection and genuine concern in his eyes. “You wanna head back to bed?”

“You gonna come with me this time?” I intentionally made my voice soft so he would know I wasn’t pushing. I wasn’t going to pressure him to go if he wasn’t ready, but I also didn’t want to go without him. I’d done it earlier because I was so exhausted that I’d barely even bothered to change out of my jeans or take out my contacts, but the second time around I was willing to wait him out. I didn’t get to feel his warmth or be surrounded by his scent as I fell asleep nearly enough and I wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.

He brought his hands back to my hair and pushed it back from my face then adjusted my glasses on my nose. He nodded and winked, not sexy (well, not intentionally so, anyway), just an affirmation, and moved his hands to the back of the chair to pull it out as I stood. We hugged both of our hosts and thanked them profusely before retreating back to the guest room to call it a night.

The last thing I heard before I fell asleep with his arms wrapped around me and one of my legs thrown across his, my head on his chest, was his voice, low and soft. “Thank you for letting me see even more of you today.”

**Author's Note:**

> All stories in this collection will be an anthology of connected one-shots that exist within the same universe; and the officially no longer follow chronological order. They may eventually be reorganized into novel-format, but that would be quite a way down the road.


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